


Surveillance

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [86]
Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all journeys are straightforward, especially not when you work on a top secret government project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surveillance

Lorraine moved smoothly along the crowded pavement, judging her pace carefully so that she could navigate her way through the chaos of rush hour London without ever seeming to be hurrying because hurrying could draw attention to her, and that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to blend in with the crowd, to become part of the amorphous mass rather than standing out from it. There was plenty of hurrying going on everywhere, but there was a world of difference between the impolite barging of the average harassed Londoner, the somewhat gormless standing and staring that characterised a certain type of tourist and the sort of wild-eyed hurrying that was born of a fear that ran deeper than just missing your tube.

She knew to avoid displaying fear of any sort. Predators scent fear.

Anyone watching her would hopefully just see a well-dressed black woman in her late 20s on her way home from work. Lorraine was wearing a tailored black suit, her only splash of colour being a pillar box red silk blouse. The skirt was loose enough for her to run in if necessary and her shoes, whilst smart, wouldn’t hold her back.

Her handbag hung from her shoulder by a long strap, holding some useful items such as a pepper spray and a rape alarm, the latter having been subjected to a few subtle modifications by Connor to increase the level of sound it was able to produce, raising the noise from uncomfortable to almost incapacitating. Lorraine carried small but remarkably effective earplugs that she could insert, provided she had the luxury of time to insert them before deploying the alarm, but if not, she’d practised with the device often enough to know that she would still be able to function under its influence.

A small pair of dumbbells gave the handbag some weight should she need to swing it at anyone, and the weights themselves – in a very fetching shade of pink – would also make extremely useful close-quarter weapons should she ever need them. And if she happened to be subjected to a bag search for any reason, they were nothing more offensive that an item just bought as part of her keep fit campaign. She even had a till receipt, the date artfully smudged into unreadability, as proof of her recent purchase.

She held her Oystercard in her hand as she reached the bus stop. A quick turn of her head showed that the number 88 bus was approaching at slightly faster than walking pace. Lorraine joined the queue, using the time to glance around as though looking in shop windows while in reality she was seeing if she recognised any faces in the crowded street. It was unusual for the same watcher to be used twice, but it was always worth a look. An elderly man walking a small Jack Russell terrier smiled at her and she smiled back.

Unusually, no one joined the queue behind her so she was the last onto the bus but she was too old a hand at this game to assume no one was dogging her footsteps. Even though she varied her choices on this particular route, it wouldn’t have been difficult for someone to predict her movements and board the bus in front of her.

Seats were as rare as hens’ teeth at that time of night and she was easily able to position herself by the exit, thus leaving her options open for an early departure, should it prove necessary.

Getting off a stop before Westminster Abby and walking the short distance to St James’s Park tube station added some unpredictability to the journey, as did jumping off the District line train just before the doors closed and waiting two minutes for the next one.

A brisk walk from the bus-stop to her flat in Hammersmith was the perfect way to round off a blissfully uneventful journey. As the house came into view, Lorraine checked her watch. One hour and seven minutes. Good timing considering the avoidance measures she’d been practising throughout the journey. The quiet street was clear of pedestrians. Someone was getting out of a blue BMW on the other side of the street carrying a large bunch of flowers. It looked like Carrie West, a 30-something stylist at an up-market hairdressers in Mayfair, had a new boyfriend, but apart from that, there was no activity anywhere in sight.

Lorraine let herself into the house, closed the front door behind her and stopped for a moment to ensure that there was nothing out of place in the shared hallway before walking up the stairs and letting herself into her first floor flat. The adrenaline of the journey was thrumming in her veins but Lorraine knew better than to relax until she had checked that her home really was a safe haven and not yet another trap for the unwary.

A faint prickle of unease sent a jolt through her system and reflexively, her right hand dived into her open handbag, bringing out the pink dumbbell in one smooth movement, pivoting on the ball of her left foot and striking out at her attacker’s head with the small weight held in her clenched fist. A strike to anywhere on the face would disable the intruder long enough for her to bring the pepper spray into play. Having spent the last hour potentially playing mouse to an unknown number of cats, she was determined not to fail at the last hurdle.

A bare arm moved with almost preternatural speed to block the blow, and a sideways move deflected the knee she aimed at her attacker’s groin. A large hand captured her wrist and pulled her off-balance as another hand slipped around the back of her neck and drew her close.

Lorraine gave a small huff of irritation as she surrendered to her boyfriend’s embrace. Blade’s lips covered hers and he proceeded to kiss her with the same intensity that he brought to bear on any activity he engaged in. Lorraine dropped the dumbbell on the carpet and slid her hands up underneath a faded grey teeshirt, feeling the warmth of Blade’s skin, mapping the familiar scars with her fingertips and scratching lightly down his spine.

When he finally allowed her to come up for air, she said, “Well?”

His vivid green eyes shone with amusement. “Kermit and his mate Sid each owe 20 quid to the charity of your choice. You lost Sid on the District line when you hopped off the train at the last minute.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bloody amateur. So there was only one of them this time?”

“You mean you didn’t spot me?” he teased, nipping lightly at her ear.

“I can smell fresh coffee. You’ve been lazing around on the settee taunting some poor lad over the radio, haven’t you?”

“He certainly isn’t a poor lad, but apart from that, yes, guilty as charged, ma’am.” He took one hand off her long enough to throw a lazy salute. “Coffee, chilled white wine or bath?”

“All three, in that order.” She kicked her shoes off and walked into the kitchen. Two mugs were already set out on the work surface and the espresso maker was bubbling on the hob.

Blade made coffee as black as the hellmouth and as strong as an elephant, but it was what she needed after a long day of meetings. Lester had been at his most acerbic in the afternoon’s lengthy meander through the highways and byways of the latest budgetary constraints and she’d thought the torture was never going to end. Fortunately, a pen-pusher barely out of university was no match for Lester, and it had taken all her self-restraint not to grin like a Cheshire cat when her boss had neatly wrong-footed everyone in the room and come away with exactly what he’d been hoping for all along, despite wearing an air of near-terminal disappointment the entire time.

A jolt of caffeine followed by alcohol probably wasn’t the wisest way to round off the day, but she knew perfectly well that the combination of hot water and her boyfriend’s skilful fingers massaging the tension out of her neck and shoulders would be enough to relax her. By the time she’d drunk two shots of coffee and changed into a ridiculously oversized teeshirt adorned with a multitude of Dalmatian puppies, Blade had poured a glass of white wine for her and was swigging beer direct from the can.

“You should have called it off tonight if it’s been a shitty day,” he told her.

“I enjoyed the distraction,” she said truthfully. “Lester got what he wanted, but it was touch and go at times, so playing the game stopped me replaying the more irritating bits in my mind while doing my best not to commit murder on the way home. I’m glad I don’t have to do that journey every day. I really have no idea how I stood it for so long.” She sipped the wine and made an appreciative noise. “I’ve been daydreaming about this all afternoon.” She clinked her glass against his beer bottle. “Did Sid really fall for that trick on the District line?”

Blade laughed. “Yep. The silly sod got himself boxed in by a pushchair and a gaggle of Japanese schoolkids.”

“That’ll serve Kermit right for sending along some rookie kid. At least Ditzy’s mate from 2 Para gave me a run for my money. I was beginning to think I’d never shake him off.”

Blade grinned and planted a gentle kiss on the end of Lorraine’s nose. “That rookie kid is actually a 35-year-old senior officer in SO14. And he now has an extremely red face. I think he wants you to run some exercises for a few of his people.”

Lorraine allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She’d once spent some time liaising with the Royalty Protection Branch of the Metropolitan Police and knew how seriously they took their duties.

“Does this mean you now think I’m safe to be let out on my own?” she asked, tilting her face up for another kiss.

Blade slipped his arms around her waist again and nuzzled at her neck. “Well, I very much doubt I’ll get anyone to take a bet against you after Sid’s performance today.”

“Can we have another session on defensive driving next week?”

Blade winced. “No way. Connor’s only just finished wiping the CCTV footage from your last bit of fun.”

Lorraine smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. She had a whole evening ahead of her. She’d soon ensure he changed his mind.


End file.
